A Perfect Version of Myself

Losing Weight is Hard

Born Like This September 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tara @ 8:30 am
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Well, hello there blog folks.

I feel like a bad blogger lately.  Worse, I feel like a bad WEIGHT LOSS blogger lately.

My life is a bit messy right now and it’s definitely having an impact on my ability to live a healthy life.  I don’t like it.  At all.

The biggest thing that’s going on is that I’m moving.  Yay, right?  Except that the problems began when my roommates and I started house hunting.  I am moving to the small city that I work in, to save myself a two-hour round-trip commute every day.  I had the idea of moving in the back of my head when I took this new job in April and I wanted to be living here before the snow started to fall and the drive got REALLY treacherous. 

We began house hunting.  It meant staying very late in Brampton, which meant either missing dinner, eating dinner at 11 pm, or eating out.  I ate out a lot.  Now, I hit maintenance during this period of eating out constantly, so I was making some good solid choices, but still.  I don’t like to eat out.  It’s a bad habit I had to work hard to break, and I find that falling back into one bad habit has a nasty way of leading back into OTHER bad habits.  Just me?

My roommates and I found a place.  We signed the lease, we divvied up the bedrooms and we prepared to move in.

Moving is stressful. 

We wanted to paint basically the entire house before we moved in – to make it ours, and to not live in a white box.  There has been many late nights (I’m so tired these days that I feel like I’m walking through water at all times), lots of takeout and many, many decisions to be made.

I haven’t been making the best ones.  My eating these last two weeks has been pretty atrocious.  I have been eating the things I want, but are not so good for me.  I have also had some run-ins with my old friend, the binge.  I am a compulsive eater, I know this, but it always surprises me to find out how hungry I am when I’m stressed out.

Then, on Friday, my step-father passed away.  He was 49 and had a massive heart attack.  We have a complicated back story, which I would like to talk about here someday when my life calms down enough for me to really reflect on what happened, and I dealt with his death by staying calm and supportive and strong for my family.  I held hands, hugged, and was the shoulder to cry on for many people. 

Then on the two-hour drive home, I went through a McDonald’s drive-thru.  I knew I wasn’t hungry.  I knew I was eating because I was sad and angry and hollow.  I did it anyway.  I got a Big Mac and french fries.  When I was done, I had an ice cream cone.  It was not my finest moment.

However, while I was eating my ice cream, I realized something.

I use stress as my EXCUSE to binge.

Here’s the thing: I”m not certain that I binge because I’m stressed, or I use the excuse of stress to have a binge.  I enjoy bingeing.  It’s so weird to say that, but it’s true.  I like giving myself permission to eat large quantities of food that is not good for me.

So while I was driving through the drive-thru, I wasn’t panicked and wanting to eat.  I was thinking that the situation I was in, the moving, the death in the family, the new relationship I’ve started (oh yeah, there’s that huge stress too, even though it’s a good one), it was all stuff that would lead to anyone to have a mental breakdown.  Being me, I deal with my mental breakdowns by eating.  Therefore, a binge was in order.

Yeah.

I need to figure this out.  I’m determined to be within two pounds of my goal weight in three weeks so I can hit maintenance.  I’m weighing in today (I skipped last week – the first time I’ve deliberately missed a weigh in since I started Weight Watchers in Dec ’08) and I’m going to see what two weeks of eating whatever, whenever and never making it to the gym has done to me.

It won’t be pretty, but I will face it and move on.  I am stronger than this and I am worth the effort it takes to make my life better.

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No More August 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tara @ 8:46 am
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The other day, I was wondering when I will have to stop calling myself fat.

Oh, stop.  I know what you’re thinking!  “Tara, you should NEVER be calling yourself fat!  It’s negative self-talk and it’s going to destroy your fragile self-confidence!”.  Blah, diddy, blah, blah, blah.

The thing is, it’s not that I “call” myself fat – it’s just that being fat is so tied with who I am that I’m used to thinking of it as part of me.  Like, I have blue eyes.  I have blue eyes, small feet and I’m fat.  It’s me.  I know there are lots of people who get this.  I’ve been overweight since I WAS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD, so thinking of myself as fat (or large, or chubby, or plump) is just par for the course.

However.  I figured at some point, I would have to stop including this in the inventory of pieces that make up who I am.  I mean, I’m not really fat anymore.  (Dude, I totally just typed “I’m not really THAT fat anymore, but then I took it out).  I`m really quite normal sized.  I`m even smaller than the average woman these days (average size commonly believed to be a size 12 – I`m currently sitting here in a pair of size 8 pants), so I figured at some point I would have to readjust my thinking and figure out how I that would fit in with my own ideas about who I am and how I look.

That day was apparently yesterday.

Let me tell you a little story, in which I`m pretty sure I almost got bitch slapped. 

I was shopping yesterday in a Reitmans.  For those of you who aren`t Canadian, Reitmans is a store that carries both regular and plus sized clothing under the same roof.  I was looking for a sweater or something to leave at my desk at work so I`ll stop fearing amputation from frost bite, and I looked up and noticed I had strayed into the Plus-sized section.  I guess Plus-sized sections are like planets, the gravity just pulls you in if you`re used to orbiting near them.

Anyway, I`m standing there and I noticed a really cute sweater (I know! In Plus-size!  How weird!) so I picked up the sleeve and was looking at the price.  I`m not sure why?  I just was.

I caught another woman looking at me and I smiled.  I often strike up conversations with strangers, so I mentioned how pretty the sweater was.  She looked mad!  She mumbled something under her breath that I didn’t quite catch and I asked her to repeat herself.  She said “like that would fit YOU!” and was sort of hostile about it.  I didn’t know what to say.  I don’t like to tell virtual strangers about my weight loss, and this has never happened to me before so I kinda froze.  Then, she asked what I was even doing on that side of the store!  I really didn’t know what to say, so I just kinda walked away. 

At first I was offended.  Then I realized that when I was forced to buy all my clothes at insane prices and covered with giant flowers, I would have felt quite the same as this woman.  I mean, sure, I could have been buying a gift, but honestly?  I know I would have felt like thin people get all the nice clothes, leave me the ONE SWEATER that’s not heinous and get lost.

Cause I’m like that in my head, if not out loud.

It’s caused me to reflect, so that’s something.  I’m going to have to work on how I describe myself.  Thin(er) is how I usually phrase it, but I have a feeling even that’s not going to fly for very much longer.

Any suggestions?

 

I Hate Everything About You November 9, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tara @ 8:54 pm
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Excuse me while I rant for a minute.  This rant has nothing to do with weight loss.

I FUCKING HATE BLOGGER. 

I hate it.  HATE, HATE, HATE!

If you do not have a registered blogger account, Blogger makes it extremely difficult to comment on other people’s blogs.  Most times, I have to hit the comment button three or four times before it even takes me to the word verification part of the process.  Oh, that’s only the times it doesn’t completely wipe my comment out and leave me staring at a blank box!  It tells me all the time that “My Open ID Credentials Can Not Be Verified” and then it kicks me out of your blog. 

OR!  When I finally get to the word verification box, the imput space for me to put my letters is hidden from view, with no conceivable way to scroll down to it.

GAH!

I guess this means if your platform is blogger and I’ve left you a comment, you should feel special.  I REALLY WANTED to leave you that comment.  I had to want it bad, be committed and swallow my annoyance.